


A Change of Plan

by missbecky



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7652821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy wants to take Harry out for an evening full of all the posh things he deserves, including himself. But when Harry gets a migraine and they have to cut things short, Eggsy finds himself playing an entirely different role for the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Change of Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [100ottersonaplane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/100ottersonaplane/gifts).



> From the prompt: Eggsy wants to show Harry a wonderful night on the town, doing posh things to try and live up to what Harry deserves. Harry gets a migraine so they have to cut the night short. Eggsy frets over Harry and over not being what Harry deserves. Cue Eggsy taking care of Harry and sappy declarations of love ensue.
> 
> I had so much fun writing this. I hope you like it!

During the month of April, Eggsy sees Harry for exactly five days. For much of that time he's away on a mission in Finland, but then when he gets back, Harry is gone, off to Belfast for a quick job. There's a period of two days when they get to be together, and then Harry is away again, this time to America to meet with the head of Statesman for a little international conference.

Eggsy tries not to sulk. He knows this is just how it is. Kingsman isn't exactly like other jobs. There is no set schedule, and things can -– and do -– happen at the drop of a hat. As Arthur, Harry in particular is at the mercy of the random, and it's not uncommon for them to have to cancel plans they've made.

It kinda sucks, but on the other hand, it _really_ makes him appreciate the time they do have together.

****

Harry is getting back on a Thursday, arriving early in the morning after flying all night from the States. Eggsy spends Wednesday night cleaning the house, which is showing signs of sad neglect from their prolonged absences. He dusts and hoovers and sneezes up a storm, stops long enough to microwave something for dinner, then tackles the bathrooms. It's late-going-on-early by the time he gets to bed, but he's pleased with how the house looks, and he doesn't really regret the lack of sleep.

He's there at HQ the next morning when Harry's plane lands, dressed in the Kingsman navy suit and club tie, hair neatly slicked in place. He's not pathetic enough to wait in the hangar, even though part of him kinda wants to. Instead he waits in Harry's office, where the windows look out onto the rolling expanse of the back lawn, and there are always at least two monitors showing what the field agents are doing at any given time.

Eggsy knows, even though Harry has never said anything, that he would far rather have remained one of them. But Kingsman badly needed leadership after V-Day, and in spite of the injuries he received in Kentucky, he was the best fit for the job. So Arthur he became, and Eggsy can't be sorry for it, because his first act of business was to declare Eggsy the new Excalibur and grant him a knighthood.

The door opens, and Eggsy looks up expectantly. "Hey."

Harry smiles to see him. Even after an overnight flight, he looks perfectly put together; his tie is still knotted at his throat and there is only the barest hint of wrinkling in his suit. His hair is combed, and he obviously shaved on the flight. "Good morning, Eggsy."

It feels like it's been ages since he was able to walk over and hug Harry, since he could kiss him properly, the way Harry deserves to be kissed. Sometimes it still amazes him that he can feel this way about someone, that he can be this much in love.

Harry kisses him back with all the fervour of absence, and that's maybe the most amazing thing of all. That Harry loves him, too.

"So how was it?" Eggsy asks as he pours their tea. Statesman is in Kentucky; he knows it can't have been easy for Harry to go back there, to that place where he was forced to kill all those people, where he was shot and left for dead.

"It went well," Harry says. He sits on the couch facing the windows, although he doesn't waste any time on the view. Instead he watches Eggsy as he approaches, mug of tea in hand. "The Americans might persist in doing things their own way, but no one can deny they get the job done."

"Yeah," Eggsy says. He hasn't met any of them yet, although he kinda hopes he will soon. He's heard some pretty good stories.

Harry sips at his tea. "Thank you, Eggsy."

Eggsy sits beside him. "So I was thinkin' we could go out tonight?" He made the plans last night in the hopes of actually getting to follow through with them for once. He's not intending to be out too late, of course, because even if Harry sleeps this afternoon -– which Eggsy knows he won't –- he'll be exhausted after being up for two days in a row.

But he wants to take Harry out. It's been way too long since they really got to spend any time together, especially time that didn't involve a debriefing and talk about Kingsman. They've both been working hard this month, but this trip to Kentucky is pretty much the last straw. They deserve some time to themselves, something that will let them take their minds off the job and just relax. 

More than that, though, Eggsy wants to show Harry how much he loves him. Harry is used to a certain lifestyle, and sitting around at night watching telly ain't exactly it.

That's why he's got it all planned out. Drinks in a posh hotel, then dinner at a staggeringly expensive restaurant. Just the kind of thing Harry is used to.

Just the kind of thing Harry deserves.

So when Harry asks, "What did you have in mind?" Eggsy is both pleased and proud to tell him.

Harry gives him a smile. "It sounds lovely," he says, and that's it. They're finally going out.

****

Their reservations are for 8:00. They take the shuttle from HQ together, leaving only half an hour later than Eggsy would have liked. Given Harry's tendency to be late for everything, Eggsy considers this a minor victory.

At home they get changed into fresh suits for the evening. Harry looks around and comments on how nice the house looks, and Eggsy quietly preens under the praise. They've been together for nearly a year now, and still Eggsy can't help that reaction. He suspects Harry knows it, too, which is why he's so good at slipping in those casual compliments like it's no big deal -– when in fact it really is a big deal. At least to Eggsy.

"Looking good," he says with an appreciative leer.

"I could say the same about you," Harry says. He's wearing a navy suit with thin white pinstriping and a tie to match. To look at him, you wouldn't know he had been awake for two days in a row. Eggsy can see the signs, because he knows Harry well enough, but outwardly he's as composed as ever.

He turns away from the mirror and smooths down his tie, even though it doesn't really need it. "You think?"

Harry's smile is soft with affection. "Oh yes."

Eggsy grins. He's in classic black tonight, his starched white collar striped in black. It's a modern suit, something the old guard at Kingsman would probably frown upon, but he doesn't really give a shit. He looks good, is what he cares about. He looks like someone who actually deserves to be walking beside Harry Hart, having drinks at the Westbury before walking down to Sketch for dinner.

He walks toward Harry, never taking his eyes off him. He wouldn't mind delaying the evening in favor of some snogging, but the whole point of tonight is to give Harry a night out. So he settles for just one kiss, long and lingering.

When he pulls back a little, Harry is still, his eyes closed, lips parted. The sight of him makes Eggsy want to kiss him all over again, this time with a little more intention. His cock quite likes this plan, too, and lets him know it.

But that's for later, for after.

"Ready?" he asks.

Harry opens his eyes a little slowly, like he's not ready yet to lose the moment. He hesitates before saying, "After you, my dear," and Eggsy guesses he'd maybe like to stay in and skip right to the shagging part of tonight's plans, too.

They're gonna do this right, though. So he just smiles and holds out his arm, elbow crooked, sticks his nose up in the air and puts on his poshest accent. "Then shall we?"

Harry looks like he's torn between a scolding and a laugh. He sets his hand on Eggsy's arm and nods graciously. "If you're going to be insufferable all night, please tell me now."

"Nah," Eggsy says with a wink. "Just part of the night."

****

A regular cab takes them to the Westbury. Eggsy's never been here before, and in spite of his suit and accent, he can't rid himself of the lurking thought that they won't let him in. They'll see right through him, demand that he turn around and slink away, back to his own streets.

Of course nothing of the sort happens.

They sit at the bar and Eggsy takes great delight in placing his ridiculous martini order. The barman takes it with the same expressionless face as the one in Valentine's bunker, then turns to Harry.

"I'll have the same," Harry says.

The barman nods and goes off to make their drinks. Eggsy looks over at Harry and tries to keep his smile appropriate for their setting. "Remember those martini lessons?"

Harry's answering smile is brief but genuine. "I do indeed," he murmurs.

"You looked so amazing," he says. "And when you took off your jacket and I saw them holsters..." He trails off. Were they anywhere else, he would admit the truth: that he had gone instantly hard at the sight of those leather straps crossing Harry's broad shoulders, and spent the rest of the night in a state of arousal and trying to hide it.

But the bar is way too posh for that. So he just says, "Well, they gave me impure thoughts." And he winks.

Harry smiles at the memory. "Yes, well, I admit I had something of an ulterior motive besides simple comfort."

"I fucking knew it!" Eggsy crows, momentarily forgetting that he's supposed to be a gentleman.

Harry winces a little at this uncouth behaviour, and Eggsy instantly grows serious again. "Sorry," he mutters.

He's not really sorry, though. How can he be? It's worth the looks from other people at the bar to know that Harry wanted him just as much. To know that they both wanted the same thing right from the start.

It had been all they could do that night to keep their hands off each other. And Eggsy is a bit ashamed to remember how he really pushed at that rule, often brushing his fingers over Harry's when Harry handed him a glass. Or leaning in a little too close as he watched Harry pouring the alcohol. He had been drunk both on gin and on Harry himself, happier than he could ever remember being. Knowing what he knows now, that Harry had been just as in love with him, the truly surprising thing about it all was that he had gone to bed alone that night.

That won't be happening tonight, though. It's been that way since last summer, since that day Harry came home from Kentucky with a fresh scar and a new role at Kingsman. The day when Eggsy had waited until late afternoon to see him, apprehensive about what they would say to each other, their last words startlingly vivid in his head. The day when they had both talked over each other in their haste to apologise, and he had finally discovered what it felt like to have Harry in his arms.

A couple passing by the bar glances their way; the lady's gaze lingers overlong on Harry, obviously appreciating what she sees. Eggsy pushes down a spike of totally irrational jealousy and lets himself be proud, instead.

Why shouldn't the lady stare? Hell, why shouldn't everyone in this place stare? He's with the most incredible man here. 

Their drinks arrive, and Eggsy sips his martini. It's perfect, of course, which is just what he expected from a place like this. "So," he says as he sets his glass down, "wait 'til you hear what Daisy did while you were gone."

For a while they sit and talk, with Eggsy sharing stories of his sister's latest exploits. It doesn't escape his notice that he does most of the talking, with Harry only humming occasionally in agreement or offering a little smile in response to something he said. He chalks it up to Harry being tired plus the lingering effects of having to be in Kentucky of all places, and tries harder to keep the conversation light.

But when they finish their second drink, he decides it's time to head out. He's pretty hungry by now and he wants them to be able to enjoy dinner; if they stay here any longer, that's going to become less and less of an option. So he pays for their drinks -– Harry offers only a token protest -– and then they leave the hotel.

Outside it's gone full dark out, but the lights of the city keep things bright enough to see. Eggsy debates with himself for a moment, then reaches for Harry's hand.

He never knows if this is okay. Mostly Harry seems willing to indulge him, but sometimes he can tell that Harry would prefer not to. He's not sure if it's an older generation thing or just a Harry thing, and he's never asked. He's not quite sure he really wants to know the answer.

Tonight, though, Harry's hand closes about his without hesitation; if anything he seems to hold on tighter than usual. Eggsy grins as they set off down the pavement, into the cool London night.

They walk through the city, headed for the restaurant and their dinner reservations. The martinis have made him loose and relaxed, and he feels happier than he has in weeks. So far the night has been a success, which is good; even better is knowing that there is still more to come.

They turn a corner and head down the next street. Eggsy glances over just as a passing car splashes them with brilliant light from its headlights. In the sudden illumination, he sees Harry flinch back at the same time Harry's hand bears down on his.

And suddenly he gets it. He feels extremely stupid then. He should've known. He should've seen this coming.

"You got a headache, don't you?" he asks.

They walk forward a few paces more before Harry says quietly, "Yes. I'm very sorry."

Eggsy stops walking. Just like that he forgets his hunger and abandons all thought of going to dinner. "You shoulda told me." 

He's not angry, though, although maybe he is, a little. Not at Harry, fuck no. At himself. He really _should_ have known. He remembers the way Harry was reluctant to open his eyes after their kiss, the light already hurting his eyes. He saw the strain on Harry's face all evening but wrote it off to fatigue and the fucking state of Kentucky.

Mostly he's just worried. Last summer was the worst, when it seemed like Harry got a migraine every other week, sometimes bad enough to send him to bed for a full day, the lights turned off and a plastic basin by the bed for when he got sick. Since then they've got progressively better, and it's been a couple months since his last one. Eggsy had dared to hope they had seen the last of them but apparently it's not meant to be.

He fucking hates it, hates that this lingering effect of Valentine's gunshot is still with them. He hates that it had to happen now on the first night in ages when they actually have the chance to spend some time together. He hates that Harry has to suffer at all, that he can only stand by helplessly and do nothing.

But that's not really true, is it? There _are_ things he can do. So Eggsy says, "I'll get a cab, okay? We'll go home."

Harry exhales slowly. "I'm sorry. I thought I could." He sounds utterly miserable.

"Hey," Eggsy says firmly. "It ain't your fault, okay?" He won't have any of that shit. It all started with Valentine, but this most recent episode isn't really anyone's fault. It's just pure bad luck, is all. The timing of the trip to Statesman plus the ghosts of Kentucky would be a shitty combination on any day.

Harry looks at Eggsy. "Thank you," he says. Still the gentleman even when he's obviously blaming himself for fucking up their evening.

There's not much Eggsy can say to that, at least nothing he hasn't already said before, so he just turns away and scans the streets, searching for a cab. If he can't find one quickly enough, he'll call for a Kingsman car, but he kinda hates to do that. He doesn't want anyone there to find out. It's bad enough that it's happening at all, but he doesn't want to humiliate Harry by letting Kingsman know, too.

Fortunately it isn't too long before he spots a cab and hails it. They climb in, Harry moving a bit stiffly, and Eggsy gives the driver their address.

They sit in silence during the ride home. Harry keeps his eyes closed; all his focus seems to be on breathing in and out, trying not to let the pain take control. Eggsy watches him carefully, but doesn't speak. He doesn't ask if Harry is okay, or take his hand or anything like that. He would never do that in front of a complete stranger. He grew up following certain rules, the ones that said you never showed weakness if you could help it, and you never gave away anyone else's weakness, either. You stuck together, you had your mate's back, and that was that.

Once they're in the door, though, none of that shit matters. JB barks happily to see them, causing Harry to flinch, and Eggsy shushes the dog with a sharp command. He slaps his palm on the light switch by the door, turning them off and darkening the living room. "How you doin', love?"

Harry sighs. He's very pale, and there are lines of pain etched around his eyes. "Not as well as I would like."

Eggsy knows how much that costs him to admit. And he knows that he is one of only two people in the world Harry would ever allow himself to be vulnerable in front of. That knowledge fills him with a weird sense of pride mingled with absolute terror and overwhelming love.

"Let's go upstairs, yeah?" he says quietly. He's already shifting into what Roxy calls his mother hen mode. He's making lists in his head of all the things he needs to do now, things to help Harry out, things to make sure he is properly taken care of. 

Together they climb the stairs, moving slowly in deference to Harry's condition. His eyes are still closed, his jaw set; one hand trails lightly along the banister. Eggsy nearly offers his arm for support, but by then they're almost at the top of the stairs so there's no sense in bothering.

When they reach their room, he hurries on ahead and flips on the light in the bathroom, but leaves the one in the bedroom off. He pulls the bathroom door mostly closed so only a pale glow filters into the room, then goes back to where Harry is and takes gentle hold of the lapels of his suit. "Off with this, then."

"Eggsy." Harry looks at him. It's more of a squint, which kinda undermines his intent, but his voice is still firm. "I'm perfectly capable of undressing myself."

"Of course you are," Eggsy says lightly. "But it's more fun if I do it." He grins, like his heart isn't breaking to see Harry in pain.

Harry makes an exasperated sound. "You are incorrigible."

"Fucking right I am," Eggsy says. "Now you sit. Let me handle this."

With a small sigh, Harry surrenders. He sits on the bed and Eggsy gets to work. It's certainly not the first time he's undressed Harry, but tonight there is nothing fun or sexy about it. He goes slower than normal, undoing buttons with care, being especially gentle about loosening the knot in Harry's tie and sliding it off his neck. He drops to one knee so he can remove Harry's shoes and socks, glances up to see the way Harry purses his lips in irritation, and leans in to press a kiss to Harry's trousered knee. "Okay," he says. "The rest is all you."

He gets to his feet and backs away a little, hovering close enough that he's ready for anything. He watches Harry stand up and immediately wince, and a pang slips through him. He hates this so fucking much. He would do anything to take those horrible headaches away, to smooth out that scar crossing Harry's temple, to erase what happened on that terrible day at the church.

But that's never gonna happen. So while Harry finishes getting undressed, Eggsy goes into the bathroom. There's a half-empty bottle of pain meds in the medicine cabinet tucked behind some antacids. He dumps two of the pills into his palm and fills the plastic cup he uses when brushing his teeth with water from the tap.

He really hopes it's not too late for the meds to work. 

Harry takes the pills without comment, drinking half the water before handing the cup back. He sinks onto the bed with a murmured, "Thank you."

"Want a cold flannel?" Eggsy asks.

Harry makes a fuzzy sound that could be either a yes or a no. Without comment, Eggsy returns to the bathroom. He dumps the rest of the water, then opens the cabinet beneath the sink and pulls out the plastic basin tucked in the back. He's not sure if the alcohol from the martinis will make Harry's stomach more unsettled than usual. He wishes he had known before they had the drinks. He hates to think that Harry drank them just to be polite or even worse, in the hope that they would dull the pain.

Back in the bedroom, Harry is still just sitting there, his eyes closed, hands braced on the edge of the bed beside his thighs. He's removed his glasses and stripped down to his undershirt and shorts, but his hair is still carefully styled, a sight that just emphasises how quickly the night went downhill.

In full mother hen mode now, Eggsy sets the basin beside the bed. He pulls Harry's mobile out of his suit coat, silences it, then hurries downstairs. He grabs a couple bottles of water, then searches the pantry for some crackers.

He doesn't find any. It's been too long since Harry had a migraine like this. "Fuck," he swears viciously under his breath. It would be a simple thing to run out to the shop and get some, but he doesn't want to leave Harry alone.

The sight of all the food in the pantry reminds him that they never did have dinner, and he's still hungry. Well, he's just gonna have to wait, Eggsy tells himself. Right now Harry is more important than his own stomach.

Carrying the water bottles, he rushes back upstairs. Harry is lying down now, curled up on his side, his back to the door. Eggsy hesitates at first, thinking –- hoping -– he might be asleep already, but then Harry shifts beneath the covers.

"Hey," he says quietly. He sets the water down on the nightstand next to a framed photograph of the two of them. Roxy took it one day while they were having lunch in the dining room above the shop. In it Harry is smiling a secretive little smile for the camera, while Eggsy is caught having just looked up, a somewhat dopey expression on his face. What made Eggsy keep it and get it framed isn't his own stupid mug -– it's the way Harry is leaning in toward him ever so slightly. It's the way there can be no mistake that they are together.

"You doing okay?" He stands by the bed, full of the burning need to do _something_ and feeling so utterly useless.

Harry doesn't answer. He just lies there, his eyes closed. One of his hands is visible, peeking out from the covers, balled into a fist. There's a ragged edge to his breathing now, but he remains utterly silent.

It's not right, Eggsy thinks. Harry is often quiet and still, but during those times he always radiates a sense of strength and grace just waiting to be unleashed. This stillness is unnatural, so _wrong_ , and Eggsy would do anything, anything, to make it stop.

But there is very little he can do, and for now he's already done it all. In a voice not much above a whisper he says, "Do you want me to stay?"

Sometimes the answer is no. Sometimes Harry can't endure to be touched when he's suffering like this. Sometimes Eggsy has to tiptoe away, his heart full of a black rage at Richmond Valentine and Chester King and the cruelty of a world that doesn't give a shit about anyone.

Tonight, though, Harry says, "Yes."

As quietly as possible, Eggsy moves around the bed. He turns the light off in the bathroom, then takes off his shoes and suit coat. He yanks at the knot in his tie and slips it over his head, drops his glasses on his own nightstand, then climbs on the bed. He tries his best not to jostle Harry as he lies down behind him.

The invitation to stay means there's one more thing he can do. He shifts over on his side until he's close enough, and then he begins rubbing the back of Harry's neck.

He starts out lightly, just airy little circles that don't do much. Steadily he applies more pressure with his fingertips, watching carefully for a sign that he's gone too far.

Harry makes a quiet, pained noise.

Eggsy lets up a little. He clenches his jaw, tries not to feel so helpless, and keeps rubbing those little circles on Harry's neck.

Someday they won't have to do this ever again, he thinks. Someday there won't be any more pain.

Someday.

****

When he wakes up, there's just enough morning light in their bedroom for him to make out Harry's sleeping form in front of him. His mouth is cottony-dry, he needs a wee very badly, and his right arm is asleep from lying on it all night.

But it's all good. Because Harry is asleep, breathing peacefully, without pain. The migraine has broken. It's over.

Eggsy yawns, eyes watering, jaw cracking. He didn't get much sleep last night, having stayed awake and alert until Harry was able to fall asleep. He had lingered for a while after that, though, needing to be certain that Harry wouldn't wake up, that the meds were truly working. Then he had slowly, so slowly crept out of bed and gone downstairs. He had made himself something to eat and then he had taken JB over to his mum's house, apologising for waking her up at such a late hour before finally returning home and going to bed himself.

Carefully he rolls over, wincing a little as the blood starts to flow in his numb arm. On any other day it would be impossible for him to get up without waking Harry -– the man has been a spy for longer than Eggsy's been alive, and his survival instinct is unparalleled. But Harry goes on sleeping, which is both a relief and a little bit worrisome.

He creeps through the room, easing dresser drawers open just enough to pull out some fresh socks and underwear, flexing his tingling fingers and grimacing at the pain of pins and needles. He slips into the bathroom and turns the light on only when the door is shut.

When he comes back out, though, his hair wet from his shower and his dirty clothes dangling from one hand, Harry is awake. Probably he was awake the whole time Eggsy was tiptoeing around. 

He smiles. "Hey."

Harry hums a little. He's sitting up, his hair a mess of tousled curls. He looks a million times better than last night, no squinting in the light, no lines of pain about his eyes. He looks perfectly normal, in fact, and Eggsy sags with gratitude. "Doin' okay?"

"Yes," Harry says. "I'm fine, thank you."

Eggsy dumps yesterday's clothes in the laundry hamper and pulls a T-shirt at random off a hanger; it's Friday and there's no reason not to go to HQ today, but he's not ready to put on a suit just yet. "Want me to make some breakfast?" He's no gourmet chef or anything, but he can hold his own in the kitchen.

Harry smiles a little. "That would be lovely."

****

He's just put the bread in the toaster when he hears Harry come downstairs. He turns around and smiles. "Morning, love."

Harry isn't in a suit, either, although he did take the time to style his hair. He's wearing khakis and a jumper the color of red wine. He walks right up to Eggsy and gives him a sweet kiss. "Good morning, dear."

"Coffee's ready," Eggsy says. "Just a couple minutes on breakfast."

Harry glances at the sausages in the pan, the eggs, the crumbs around the toaster. If the past is anything to go by, he won't eat much, but at least he'll be eating something. "I apologise for ruining your plans last night. Thank you for looking after me." He says it lightly enough, but he doesn't look Eggsy in the eye, as though he's ashamed.

Eggsy's heart wrenches in his chest. There's no fucking way he's accepting that. "You didn't ruin anything," he says indignantly. " 'Sides, I still got to spend time with you."

Harry grimaces. "That was hardly what I'd call a romantic night out." 

"Don't matter," Eggsy says stubbornly. "Long as I get to be with you, I'm good. It just fucking sucks that you were hurting like that."

Harry looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the subject now that he's feeling better. Eggsy can't blame him. And he doesn't exactly want to think about last night, either. So he just turns the sausages over and offers, "We can try again, though."

"We certainly can," Harry says. He reaches for the coffee pot. 

"I'll make the reservations," Eggsy says. "How does tomorrow sound?" They'll both probably want an early night today; hopefully nothing will come up at HQ requiring Harry to be there longer than usual.

"You don't have to go to all that trouble," Harry says.

"Yeah I know, but I want to," Eggsy says. The toast pops up, and he quickly pulls them out and drops them on a plate. "You deserve all the nice things." He doesn't add that he's trying hard to be one of those nice things himself, even though of course he never will be. He's too young, too ignorant of life in Harry's world. No matter how much he learns about etiquette and Egyptian cotton sheets, he's always going to be that thief from the council estate.

A strange quiet settles over Harry's features as he sets the coffee pot down. "Eggsy," he says. He turns to face him, moving slightly between Eggsy and the stove, just enough that Eggsy has to turn toward him. "All I could ever want is right here." He lays his palm on Eggsy's cheek.

It's a sweet gesture, but it misses the point. "Yeah, but -–" Eggsy starts to say.

"All I could ever want," Harry repeats seriously. "I do enjoy going out with you, Eggsy, but none of that is necessary. I'm perfectly happy to spend any time with you at all." He leans in to kiss Eggsy again, and while it's still a chaste kiss, this time there is an intensity that was lacking before.

Eggsy's heart kind of stutters in his chest. He's never loved anyone the way he loves Harry, never thought he would ever be so happy with someone else. It's moments like this that make all the pain worth it.

Harry releases him and moves back. Before he can get very far though, Eggsy rises up on his toes and kisses him.

This kiss is not chaste at all. He opens his mouth to Harry's tongue and pushes him back until he's pressed up against the counter, his hands running possessively up and down Harry's arms. "I love you," he breathes. He kisses the soft skin where Harry's dimples appear when he smiles. "You're the only thing I ever want. Just you. For always."

Harry's arms go around him, and they just stand there for a long moment, wrapped up in each other. "And I love you, dearest," Harry sighs.

Eggsy closes his eyes and just savours the moment. Maybe they don't have to go out, after all. This is enough for him, just getting to be with Harry. It always was. What he never realised, what he should have known, is that he isn't the only one who feels that way.

Posh restaurants are fun, but so is getting takeaway and staying in. Getting dressed up and being admired by strangers is cool, but curling up on the couch in his trackies, Harry's arm around him, feels even better. Holding hands as they walk down the street is daring, but here they can do anything they want with each other.

That settles it, Eggsy decides. He's still going to make plans for them, but there will be no expensive night out.

It's just going to be the two of them. The way it should be. 

The way it's always going to be.


End file.
